


Freshly Disowned (In Some Frozen Devotion)

by thrillflea



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Bottom Klaus Hargreeves, False Identity, Gangbang, Incest, Klaus goes along with it but it's definitely dub-con, M/M, Multilingual Klaus, Sexual Slavery, Spitroasting, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrillflea/pseuds/thrillflea
Summary: Kink meme fill. "Klaus has amnesia when he gets to the 60s. The Commission take advantage of this by getting the Swedish brothers to find him and 'remind' him that he was their plus one."
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/The Swedes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Freshly Disowned (In Some Frozen Devotion)

**Author's Note:**

> Hozier is way too good for this smut that I'm definitely going to hell for. I'm sorry Andrew!!

Klaus had the worst day. 

It had been terrible, and it was the only day he could remember. The  _ worst.  _

He’d regained consciousness reclined gracefully across a hedge. The hedge - which had belonged to a lovely young woman whose husband definitely didn’t deserve her - may as well have been his birthplace. He definitely didn’t remember another one. 

_ Weird way to be born,  _ he thought, and scratched his stomach through the button-up the nice lady had given him. (He really hoped she left that guy before they popped out any rug-rats.) What she hadn’t given him, unfortunately, was any cash. Small mercies: he couldn’t remember his age, birthplace, or the sight of his mother’s face, but he could remember that money, numbers, places, and mothers existed. That was a good starting point, at least. 

He also remembered that hard drugs existed, which was enough to lend some urgency to the cash situation. And hamburgers, but that was cheating, he’d already walked past a diner and smelled those.

When he found himself lurking in an underpass as the sun began to set, he was a little disappointed that prostitution was apparently something even the most  _ tabula  _ of  _ rasa  _ could remember. It felt like a sad commentary on the human condition. 

**_The most slate?_ **

Klaus swatted crossly at the air next to his head. It would be just his luck if he turned out to be schizophrenic. Would explain a lot about his terrible day, though. 

A very bad day that kept getting worse, because apparently he had found the one place in the world where men were unwilling to pay a young, spectacularly beautiful young man for the pleasure of his company. Just in case it was the shirt, he took it off but tied it around his waist; he didn’t want to let Suzanne’s gift get dirty on the ground. 

Apparently it was the shirt, because fifteen minutes later a milk truck rolled to a stop on the edge of the road. Klaus let muscle memory take over from his poor, empty head, and walked over to peek into the unfairly-high window. He didn’t know if he’d fucked a milkman before.

Milkmen. Men made of milk. They looked at him whitely. Klaus scrubbed his face, but they still looked a little lactose. Not a hallucination then. 

“There you are,” the driver said, voice thick with some kind of Scandanavian accent Klaus couldn’t be bothered to place. His English was pretty good, though. Klaus was impressed. “We have been searching for you.” 

“That’s good,” he said, because it was. The door was unlocked, so he climbed in. The milk guys stared at him. “Where do you want me?”

“With us. You belong with us,” the driver explained, so Klaus sat down on the lap of one of the guys. He smelled a little sour, probably from all the milk, and his arms closed around Klaus like the steel bars on a rollercoaster. Much more comfortable than a seatbelt, honestly, even though Klaus still wasn’t sure why he remembered seatbelts but not whether or not he had a home. 

These guys sounded pretty certain, though. That was good. He leaned his cheek on the guy’s shoulder. This close to his skin the smell was less old dairy and more old blood, but something about that was calming. He felt a little sentimental, even though he was pretty sure you needed memories to feel like that. 

“I belong with you?” An actual question, but he thought he could get away with it. Somewhere in the wet cotton landscape of his mind, he could at least remember how to sound like he was flirting no matter what he said. “Por que?” 

“Our job is very stressful, Klaus,” the not-driver, not-seatbelt man said from the other seat. “You help with your holes.” Seatbelt man tightened his arms, and Klaus sighed. 

That made sense. Not much else had all day, so he’d take it. 

Except - “Just the main two, right? I feel like I’d get a lot of ear infections otherwise.” 

Two of the men looked at each other. “Det här är en dålig idé,” the drive said, and started the milk truck. 

“Oh,” Klaus said, “you’re Swedish! Vill du knulla mig?” He didn’t know if he knew any more Swedish than that, but he could learn. 

“Yes,” said the man holding him, and they started driving. Klaus re-knotted the shirt around his waist, even though it was a man-repellant. He might need that eventually. He had no idea who these guys were.

* * *

“Yay,” Klaus said, dropping to his knees. “You have cats!” 

Two cats looked at him in disdain. Klaus kissed at them to no real effect. 

“Ja,” said the driver, walking past Klaus into the kitchen. The cats followed him, to Klaus’s disappointment. When he tried to stand up, Seatbelt - he really had to learn? remember? some names - kicked him in the small of his back and sent him toppling onto the floor. The carpet smelled musty and a little like cat piss and a little like cabbage, for some reason, when Klaus rubbed his cheek against it. More muscle memory. Maybe this really was his home, even if he didn’t remember any of his roommates. Swedish or furry or otherwise. 

“You do not stand,” Seatbelt said. Klaus rolled over onto his back to look up at him, standing next to Not-Seatbelt. They both had their arms crossed. “Unless you do chores. If not chores, you are like the animals.” 

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Klaus said. “Floor. Animal. Guess you don’t want me in clothes, either. Do I get a safeword?” Again: he felt like it was maybe a little sad that complex sexual perversions ranked higher in the List Of Shit To Definitely Remember than things like his childhood, but he had the funny feeling that maybe people with childhoods they wanted to remember didn’t end up as the live-in whore for a bunch of Swedish milkmen. Maybe that was something to be grateful for. 

“No,” Seatbelt said, frowning. Klaus spread his legs, but it didn’t make Seatbelt stop frowning. “No word. No clothes.” 

Not-Seatbelt shuffled his feet and looked over at Seatbelt. He said something in Swedish that Klaus didn’t understand completely. 

“Some clothes,” Seatbelt relented, but he didn’t look very happy about it. “Du kommer att ha ett vackert förkläde. You will wear when you cook. When you clean. It would make my brother happy. Our job is very stressful.” 

“Oh,” Klaus said, “brothers!” That made sense. It made him happy as well, in a way he couldn’t place but expected had something to do with having been these men’s plus-one in the past. Incest probably should bother him, but it didn’t seem all that important. Besides, maybe things were just a little bit different in Sweden. He wasn’t one to judge. 

He didn’t think he was one to judge. He decided he wasn’t one to judge. 

Seatbelt cleared his throat, and Klaus reached down to untie the shirt; he hoped they would let him keep it, and he tossed it to the side carelessly in case that made them forget about it. The jeans were a bit of a bitch to get off, he had to roll from side to side so that they would peel off of his hips and thighs, but once they were gone he was somewhat gratified to find that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

Finding out that you’re a whore might not rank high on other people’s list of awesome shit, but Klaus had had the worst day and was cheered up by finding out anything about himself. 

Both of the brothers stared down at him, and Klaus spread his legs a little wider in case that was what they were waiting for. It apparently wasn’t, because they just stood there until Klaus heard footsteps behind him. 

He tipped his head back to see Driver looking down at him. Driver dropped a bottle which hit Klaus’s chest with a promising clatter, bounced off, and rolled underneath a fussy-looking table. “You will take these,” Driver said, and Klaus nodded without waiting. He remembered pills. “Not too often. You will be very unhappy if you run out. We will make you unhappier.” 

“Thanks,” Klaus said, and squinted. “Master? Sir? ...Daddy?” 

Driver frowned. “I am Otto.” He pointed at his brothers in turn. “Oscar,” he said, “and Axel.” 

Seatbelt’s name was Axel. That was easy enough to remember, it was another car word. Klaus was grateful. “Okay, Otto.” 

“You do not call us by name. You do not speak.” 

Oscar cleared his throat again. 

“You speak,” Otto relented, “if you say pretty things. Not our names.” 

“Your names are pretty,” Klaus tried, but just got a boot to the shoulder instead. It wasn’t a playing-around sort of kick, and his entire right arm went numb even though it hadn’t been all that hard. The guy knew his shoulder anatomy. “ _ Ow. _ Okay. Got it.” So that’s how it was. His cock wasn’t hard, but he was more aware of it than he had been before. He could work with that. Masochism was probably a good skill to have around these guys. 

Who knew milkmen were such badasses? 

Craning his neck to look at Otto was giving him a cramp, so he looked back down at the other two brothers. Oscar already had his cock out, stroking it slowly and methodically, even when Axel said something short and Swedish and Oscar said something short, Swedish, and angry in return. He just kept stroking it. It was pretty big. 

Klaus’s mouth started watering, and for the first time since the hedge he felt something that was probably shame. 

Yeah, probably a good thing he couldn’t remember his life up until now. It had probably not been great. 

**_This is going to be impossible._ **

Klaus frowned. 

“Go to one,” Otto said from behind him, and kicked Klaus’s head in an encouraging sort of way. Klaus scrambled onto his hands and knees obediently. He could feel himself getting hard. Pathetic. Being pathetic felt good. It meant he didn’t have to worry about his memory anymore, because he obviously belonged here. 

Oscar was shorter than the others and kind of pretty in an albino way, especially with his heavy cock resting invitingly in his palm. Axel had been Seatbelt, though, and Klaus remembered how good he had felt with his arms around him, holding him in place as the milk truck bounced its way down the road. 

Besides, he’d said that he wanted to fuck Klaus. His hole clenched emptily, like in his previous life it had rarely not been filled. That settled it. 

He crawled towards Axel, hips swinging, and leaned down to rub his cheek against the floor at Axel’s feet. It seemed like a clear enough sign, but in case he needed to make it clearer he arched his back up, chest shoved into the floor and hips in the air. “Fuck me,” he said, and it felt good to say, so he said it again. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Axel grunted but didn’t kick Klaus in the face, which he took as approval. Instead he kneeled down, one knee on the floor and the other between Klaus’s shoulder blades, weight half on and half off him. Klaus yelped into the carpet and went still, not moving as Axel rubbed two fingers across his hole with workmanlike efficiency. 

He pushed the tip of one finger in, dry. Or tried to, anyway. No matter how hard Klaus tried to relax, his hole clung tight and hungry around Axel’s knuckle. It burned in a familiar way, starting out like a papercut but getting harder to ignore as Axel did his best to work his way in, jabbing deeper in a way that pulled a pained moan out of Klaus. 

“This is what you are for. You should be better,” Axel said, sounding angry, and Klaus scratched at the floor. Breathing was becoming a problem, between the pain and the knee on his back, but he didn’t think mentioning that counted as pretty words. 

Something bounced off his ass. The other two were moving around, but Klaus couldn’t focus on anything but the finger up him and the knee and the pain and the weight and the pressure and the ache. 

Until one of them poured something over his hole. He yelped - it was cold - but the next time Axel jabbed his finger in it went a little smoother. Oil. Some trickled down along Klaus’s spine, and when it ran over his shoulder he turned his head to sniff it. 

A little bit spicy. Olive oil! Maybe they’d have a salad later. Klaus hoped it was burgers instead, he was hungry. 

It was clear that the oil wasn’t meant to make things easier on Klaus, just Axel. As soon as some of it was inside him, Axel added a second finger. It still hurt, but the stretch was familiar in a way that nothing had been until now. It felt like home. Klaus was struggling to breathe now, but he still found enough air to moan loudly into the carpet. 

A cat meowed back from somewhere in the house, and he laughed. 

“Say something,” Oscar said, and Klaus felt two more fingers sliding in next to Axel’s. He pushed back, trying to open up around them, hips trying to move despite the unforgiving angle he was held at. 

“Put it in before you make me too loose to be good,” he begged, guessing. One of them grunted, so he guessed that maybe that was a good tactic. “I need it. I need it, it’s what I’m for, I’m just holes for you, you should put it in, the sooner you fuck me the sooner you can fuck me again, I’ll be good, I’ll be good…”

Axel toppled off of his back with a curse, fingers ripped unkindly from Klaus’s ass in the process, but Oscar pushed in two more of his fingers triumphantly. It felt like he was trying to pry Klaus open, fingertips hooking in and pulling. 

Sibling rivalry! It was almost sweet. 

Without Axel on his back - he had stood up now, leaving Klaus’s field of vision - it was easier to rock back onto Oscar’s fingers. He wished he’d had time to take one of the pills first, but this was nearly as good. Or would be, if one of them ever got around to sticking their dick in him. 

It wasn’t enough. His face burned. He was an amnesiac prostitute who apparently belonged to three incestuous albino Swedish milkmen, but the only thing that mattered was whether he was going to get a cock in him. That probably should have been embarrassing. Instead it just made him whimper with desire. His legs shook with it. 

When Oscar - Klaus assumed it was Oscar - finally fucked into him, he could have cried. It was so good, and so familiar, that he nearly came down his thighs within seconds. The oil and the prying had helped, but Oscar felt even bigger than he’d looked and didn’t seem interested in taking things slow. He started hammering into him before Klaus’s body was ready, driving Klaus’s face into the carpet and smothering his moans. 

At least until he was picked up onto his hands and knees by a big hand around his throat. Axel’s cock was shoving past his lips and teeth before he even realized what was happening, but his body knew what to do with something big and hard and hot there. 

No gag reflex. Useful. 

It was easy to check out after that. Klaus swayed between them, shoved in one direction and then another over and over again. Both the brothers were stronger than he’d assumed, practically holding him up between them like a proper spit-roast. It was hard to breathe, harder to focus on anything other than the stretch in both holes and the ache between his legs. 

Axel came first, but Oscar followed immediately after. Klaus’s body knew what to do, thank god, swallowing around Axel and trying to milk Oscar with his ass. Something warm hit his back in long spurts, and he realized that must be Otto. 

A family affair. Klaus came on the floor like a dog, startling Oscar with the way he clenched down on him. Oscar hit him in the back of the head, driving Axel even further down his throat. 

Klaus hung there for a moment, worn out, then collapsed to the floor when both brothers pulled out at the same time. They must have coordinated it. “Clean,” Otto said, out of breath but still sounding angry. 

“What? Oh,” Klaus said. Focusing was hard, and moving was harder, but he awkwardly shuffled back so that he could lick his come from the carpet. It was furry under his tongue and tasted like earwax - which was a shame, because he could feel his still-twitching dick give an interested jump at having to do this. 

Next time he’d try to seduce them somewhere with linoleum. 

He must really belong here, he decided. If not here, a place like this, so this was good enough. 

**_God damn it._ **

“Now cook,” Otto said. Klaus’s head was starting to ache. The pills sounded like a good idea. “Frukost.” 

“I hope we have bacon,” Klaus said. Otto kicked him in the side, and he started crawling. 


End file.
